Quotes About Anguish

in a time lacking in truth and certainty and filled with anguish and despair, no woman should be shamefaced in attempting to give back to the world, through her work, a portion of its lost heart.

it didn't feel wrong. It felt wretched. Horrific. A nightmare. But sometimes "right" felt like that.

There's a point of poverty at which the spirit isn't with the body all the time. It finds the body really too unbearable. So it's almost as if you were talking to the soul itself. And a soul's not properly responsible.

This is what the war has done to me. Now I want to destroy because of it. There is such hate and rage inside me now. The Angkar has taught me to hate so deeply that I now know I have the power to destroy and kill.

When night comes, the gods again taunt us with a radiant sunset. "Nothing should be this beautiful," I quietly say to Chou. "The gods are playing tricks on us. How could they be so cruel and still make the sky so lovely?". My words tug at my heart. It is unfair of the gods to show us beauty when I am in so much pain and anguish. "I want to destroy all the beautiful things.

With every anguish of our earthly part The spirit's sight grows clearer.

From the very fountain of enchantment there arises a taste of bitterness to spread anguish amongst the flowers.

I think my heart can't possibly hurt any more than it already does.

his soul until he actually began to sweat blood.

Some people make it their life's work, being unhappy.

However things hurt, men hurt worse.

A line came into my mind, something that Hannah Arendt had once said about the poet Auden: that life had manifested the heart's invisible furies on his face. He looked a hundred years old. He looked like a man who had died several months earlier. He looked like a soul in pure torment.

And now was I both a burthen and a terror to myself; nor did I ever so know, as now, what it was to be weary of my life, and yet afraid to die. 

There was a sharp pain in my heart, as if that lumpy organ had weathered every abuse, only to be crippled by misery.

Damn these indecisions! This accursed difficulty of deciding, of deciding anything at all, seemed to have grown into an obsession with him. To have to decide... that was the worst misery on earth!

Their wet cold faces, her shapeless nose and his grotesque hooked nose like the caricature-mask of a Roman soldier, their large, contorted, abnormal mouths, made, it might seem, more for anguished curses against God than for the sweet usage of lovers, were now pressed savagely against each other and, as they kissed, queer sounds came from both their throats, that were answered by the groanings of the tree and by the raindrops as the wind shook it.

This sucks! I can't think! I can't sleep! I can't eat! Is love supposed to hurt so?

You make me sound like a criminal even though it was you who broke my heart.

My love lies bleeding.

He shot her. He pushed her to the floor. He killed her. He didnt love her anymore.

Oh, how many nights Ive cried from the things you do, felt like I could die from the sh.. you put me through.

Losing me will hurt; it will be the kind of pain that won't feel real at first, and when it does, it will take her breath away.

I wish I saved all the tears I cried for you so I could drown you in them.

I need to cry but there's no tears. I want to scream but there's no voice. I want to leave this hell but there's no exit sign.